


The Journal of Anthony J. Crowley

by BitKahuna



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-07-31 13:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitKahuna/pseuds/BitKahuna
Summary: Aziraphale can’t not read a book. So when he finds his best friend’s journal, there’s no way he can leave it unread.





	1. To Read Or Not To Read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a song from TikTok:
> 
> “Wait A Minute!” by Willow

Aziraphale has likely read most books that the world has, and has ever had, to offer. So when he found an unfamiliar book in his own bookshop, he didn’t know what to think.

At first, he wondered if he’d misplaced something he hadn’t read in a while. He picked up the thick book and he realized it was without title or author. But upon opening it, he found the first page contained a written message:

_‘Property of Crowley’_

Aziraphale almost laughed aloud. He couldn’t believe Crowley had a diary. A diary that he’d apparently misplaced. However, last night, Crowley didn’t sober up until he was outside and preparing to leave. It made sense he might have misplaced something in his stumble out the door.

He headed towards his phone and sat down to call his friend, until his eyes drifted back to the worn pages of the journal. Pages that weren’t even paper, but parchment. He would easily place the book at around 1000 AD. In fact, it was more codex than book. Crudely constructed of the cheap leather the pages were sewn to with two pieces of wood as the front and back cover. The thing was ancient and Aziraphale hadn’t seen anything like it in centuries. He knew it to be a demonic miracle that it hadn’t begun rotting away.

It was more than the age that drew him to it, but the fact that it was Crowley’s. After the failure that was Armageddon and their executions, they’d become even closer than before. Close enough that Aziraphale wouldn’t hesitate to say that they’re closer than any two beings have ever been. But this journal, it was something intimate. It was purely Crowley. In short, he couldn’t not read it.

His hand lingered over the phone another moment before it retreated and carefully picked up the book.

He made sure the sign at the door expressed that the shop was closed before he got comfy and opened the old journal. As easy as it should be for an angel to resist temptation, something about knowing Crowley’s inner dialogue was simply too enticing.

It started with a scribbled explanation. Something about how journaling was becoming popular and he decided to jump on the bandwagon to keep up appearances.

The handwriting wasn’t great, but Aziraphale had become excellent at deciphering written works. He could also recognize that Crowley wasn’t entirely comfortable with writing things down. Somehow, he thought it was adorable, and it made him smile.

After a bit more of Crowley’s vague description of his life thus far, he literally wrote the words _‘fuck it’_, and declared that he would start from the beginning.

Aziraphale grinned and shifted in his seat, excited for Crowley’s perspective on the world.

It began with the garden of Eden, his reasoning for tempting Eve, and his fall. It started off a bit bitter and he tried to write it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, but it soon turned into something painful. He described the searing pain in his wings as they changed color, the way he physically fell, and the feelings of betrayal from the person who once said she loved him.

It hurt Aziraphale to know that Crowley felt hurt. His own empathy often made autobiographies a difficult read.

Then, it moved on to the first time Crowley met Aziraphale. He wrote about how out of the four angels who guarded each of the gates, something about Aziraphale made him feel like he could talk to him. He felt strangely drawn to him, decided that nothing worse could happen to him, and had a chat. He appreciated that Aziraphale gave him a chance and ended it at that.

The next few pages were filled with stories that Crowley had remembered from the thousand years following Eden. He wrote about how he genuinely did his job, and kind of enjoyed it. He wrote about all his favorite temptations, which ones were easiest, the harder ones, about how back then, everything was carefully done to plant seeds of doubt and hate, slowly turning someone to a life of sin. He wrote about how nowadays, he preferred to get someone to do a bad thing and then move on with it. If the human decided to change their ways, then so be it.

After three pages, front-to-back, vaguely describing an entire millennia, Aziraphale was met with a story that shocked him.

Mesopotamia, 3018 B.C. Crowley mentioned that he’s slept with a few mortal women as part of his temptations, but he expressed utter delight upon learning that in Mesopotamia, men of the same status would often sleep together, and it could even be seen as good fortune. Given that he’s a demon, he had no particular interest in sexual intercourse, but once he started, he found that he enjoyed it greatly. Years of women and now he realizes that men could also be an option. Quite impulsively, he jumped at the chance and had no problem tempting a man into sleeping with him. Given it was his first time, he took the submissive role, but found his partner to be very patient and caring.

_’For the next decade I found myself occasionally in Eluti’s arms. But I knew I couldn’t continue as I would never age, he needed to wed a woman, and I wouldn’t want to mislead the heart of such a kind man.’_

Crowley then wrote about seeing a man with white hair and clothes in 3004 B.C, and hoping it might be Aziraphale. He called the flood an overreaction but also wrote it off as a partial victory for tempting the locals to sin so effectively. Still, he was very upset about drowning children. Of all the things he was willing to do as a demon, killing children wasn’t one of them. He was also upset that one of the unicorns had run off. He hoped that there were still some around today, but knew it wasn’t likely.

He mentioned that he found Eluti’s wife the moment he left Aziraphale, and tempted her to convince Eluti to move the family to Asia. He watched them leave, and by some demonic miracle, they left just in time. With a shaking hand he declared that watching Eluti leave was the first time his heart ached for another. He wrote about how he knew he could stop it, by a demonic miracle, he could get rid of the wife and kids, he could have prevented them from even happening, but he didn’t because he wanted what was best for Eluti. With a harsh pressure, his handwriting becoming small and timid, he said he may have loved Eluti.

He had also written about how lousy a promise the rainbow was, but that it was also quite lovely.

Aziraphale was in a state of shock. He knew demons could love. He knew Crowley loved his car and Queen. But he didn’t realize a demon could have an honest and pure love for another being, let alone a human. He found his heart aching for the desolate words and he nearly shed a tear.

The next three thousand years were written off in a collection of temptations he remembered, and a series of long naps, all taking up only five pages. It make the angel question how the book could be so thick and worn if millennia after millennia were written off as boring and uneventful.

His next adventure took place in India, shortly after the publication of the Kama Sutra.

A shiver went down Aziraphale’s spine at the mention of such a vulgar book. He hadn’t read it until the thirteen hundreds, but he most certainly regretted it. Plenty of it was about lifestyle choices, finding a partner, love, and maintaining a relationship. He thought it was quite sweet, until he got to the parts about different sexual positions. When he first read the rude section of the tome, he let out a surprised squeak and threw the book clear across the room. He was thankful that the memories were now very hazy and nearly gone.

In Crowley’s journal, he mentioned his pride that the book gave some mention of sex positions between men, and his success at tempting a few to try it out with him.

Aziraphale frowned and shivered once more at the thought of the book before moving on.

Next was the crucifixion. Aziraphale took a moment to remember the horrible sights and sounds he witnessed that day. Again, Crowley saw a white-haired man in white clothes and hoped it might be Aziraphale. He thought that after a few millennia that angels might deviate a bit from their formal and white clothes for something that may help them blend in a bit better, but wrote it off, saying some things must not ever change. There was a bit of grief he expressed for the life that was lost, and an appreciation for the way Aziraphale decided to give his new name a try.

Aziraphale noticed a pattern in the writing. Everything about him was clear, as if it was written in the moment. Everything else was vague and written as if it was a distant and unimportant memory. He took some flattery in this.

The journal skipped ahead eight years to the next time Crowley and Aziraphale met, over in Rome. He said it was a pleasant surprise that he saw “his angel”. He was flattered that “his angel” remembered his preferred name, and mentioned that “his angel’s” temptation for lunch together may have worked.

This caught Aziraphale by surprise. Today, he wouldn’t blink twice at Crowley referring to him as “his angel”. But this book was written over a thousand years ago, about events that took place nearly two thousand years ago. They weren’t friends in the time the events took place or the time in which they were written. Certainly Aziraphale was nothing more than a familiar face at the time. He supposed it could be possible that Crowley considered them acquaintances.

A few hundred years were written off on one page before they met again. Sometime in the five hundreds in Wessex. Something about undoing the peace King Arthur was spreading, mentioning how pointless it was that he and Aziraphale work only to cancel each other out. He wrote extensively about how beneficial a partnership would be. He went as far at to say that it was nice to see his angel again.

There were a few paragraphs detailing how strenuous his work had become. How he often reported successes that he hadn’t even really done. Taking credit for temptations that humans had made on their own.

It was then that the journal went downhill, in Aziraphale’s opinion.

Crowley took a little vacation for a few hundred years. He started in East Asia. There, he found the comfort of men and women alike. He moved on through the South Pacific and what is now the Americas. In the latter two, he found comfort mostly in men, and discovered it was very openly accepted and even celebrated.

Aziraphale grimaced and began to skim along as Crowley described what he declared was a series of the best sex of his life. It was almost ironic as Crowley would likely never die.

The book caught up with itself and Crowley wrote that besides the sex, nothing of interest happened while he was on vacation. He left off in his return to Italy in 989 when he purchased the journal.

At this point, the book hardly had thirty complete pages. Aziraphale hoped it got more interesting as Crowley would now be writing about his present life.

It got plenty more interesting, but not in the way Aziraphale had hoped.

Crowley was in Italy at the start of the Renaissance. He slept with many writers, philosophers, bankers, artists, politicians, and bourgeoisie over the next few hundred years. Spending his days living in leisure and tempting people into delicious sins. In those days, he was partial to the classic deadly seven. Sloth, gluttony, envy, wrath, pride, lust, and greed. It was easy to tempt the well-off to indulge in them.

Aziraphale skimmed the next fifty pages as it was filled with nothing but smut and successful temptations. He wanted to know nothing about his friend’s adventures. Though he never would have thought it before, he silently realized Crowley was indeed, a gentleman of the night. He had to put the book down three times to take some deep breaths and have a cup of tea to calm himself. It was all a bit much for him.

Suddenly, somewhere in the year 1592, Crowley wrote an extensive entry on Aziraphale. He called himself an idiot for wasting the last thousand years of his life thinking about the angel. Not _his_ angel, _the_ angel. He wrote about how Aziraphale would pop into his thoughts, how he found himself wishing he would stumble upon the man again, about how he was dumb enough to find hope in nearly every white-haired man in white clothes. He said he was foolish to think so often about the angel, that they may never see each other again. Astonishingly, he even wrote that it was _’similar to the ache of the Mesopotamian man I once knew.’_

Aziraphale was at a loss. Centuries of sex, lovers, and distance between them, but Crowley still thought of him so often. Crowley wrote that whatever had drawn him to Aziraphale on the day they met had never left him. In the end, he said he was going to sleep.

He put the book down and found himself pacing about. He couldn’t believe that Crowley could have seen them as friends for so long. He wrote it off as Crowley’s own loneliness that he projected onto Aziraphale being a familiar and eternal face. In his own life, Aziraphale made friends wherever he went. He was never truly alone. But Crowley seemed to only find comfort in bodies, not real friendships. He decided that it was only that, as sad and lonely as it was.

In their time apart, Aziraphale had also thought of Crowley. He silently hoped they would meet and even found himself praying about it, although he never knew why.

In fact, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t try to get rid of Crowley when they first met in Eden. There was a demon, in Eden, the place he was meant to be guarding. He should have tried to vanquish Crowley where he stood, and had it been any other demon, Aziraphale was certain that he would have given them a strongly worded lecture about staying away. But he didn’t. For some reason, he only smiled and made polite conversation.

His shoulders slumped as he suddenly realized he was a complete and utter fool. He spent centuries occasionally thinking about Crowley, the only demon he was never upset to meet. Why had he done that? Why did he think so often about Crowley? Why did Crowley think even more often about him? Perhaps they were both fools.

Their next meeting was at the Globe Theatre in London, early sixteen hundreds. They had agreed to meet there after bumping into each other only a few days prior. Crowley wrote about how excited he was to see Aziraphale again, and it was followed by an extensive and frustrating fashion montage in which Crowley couldn’t figure out what to wear to see _his_ angel. He tried on thirteen outfits before deeming the fourteenth one as being the best it was going to get.

When they met, Crowley mentioned that he was taken aback to see Aziraphale in an outfit that was predominantly blue. It was strange seeing an angel in mostly color, then again, his interactions with angels other than Aziraphale were essentially nonexistent. He went as far as to say that his angel looked nice in blue.

Aziraphale felt his cheeks heat up at the written complement, something that’s happened less than five times in his extensive life.

Crowley expressed his joy at seeing his angel, that it was nice they would start working together, and that Aziraphale’s smile made his demonic miracle worth it.

_’Something about it was so pleasant, surprised, and caring. It makes my wicked heart ache just to think about it. But I would perform a thousand more miracles to see it again.’_

His jaw dropped and the book nearly did as well. Could his smile really have meant that much to Crowley?

Aziraphale sat up straight as he realized how familiar the journal was. He blinked a few times and processed what he had read, really thinking about it. In the end, he realized the journal was less like the autobiographies he struggled to read, and more akin to a romance novel.

“No.” The word escaped his mouth in a breathy shock.

Certainly, that isn’t what this was becoming. There was no possible way that he was witnessing his own friend fall in love with him over the years. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t conceivable. He quickly wrote it off as an overreaction and continued to read.

The next hundred years were much more detailed and were centered mostly around he and Crowley’s interactions. He was surprised to find that the mid-1700s marked the halfway point in the book. He blinked a few times and realized it was dark out. He’d spent his evening reading, but he was determined to finish it. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

He was also surprised to find that over the years Crowley had attempted to flirt with him. It started off as a joke, wondering if the angel would catch on to an attempt at wooing. Aziraphale realized that what he had written off a friendly complements, were genuine attempts at flirting. Even more embarrassingly, he came to witness Crowley’s attitude shift from curiosity to sincerity. Somewhere along the line he truly wanted to woo Aziraphale. Crowley wrote it off as his own physical lust and a desire to tempt an angel. At one point he went into extensive detail about all the things he wonders about Aziraphale’s body.

He squirmed and looked away from the parchment as the curiosities got more and more intimate. It felt like the Kama Sutra all over again, and although he did squeak, he refrained from throwing the book.

He began to skim as he momentarily feared he may spontaneously discorporate and have to get Adam’s help, or worse, Gabriel’s.

He skimmed all the way to the French Revolution, when Crowley found him chained in the Bastille. He wrote about was how genuinely pleased Aziraphale was to see him., and that it made him happy. He wrote about how he couldn’t believe Aziraphale ended up in that situation and that he seemed to dress even more frivolously than Crowley remembered. He made a note that next time there was trouble in mainland Europe, he would ensure that Aziraphale stayed out of it. He also made sure to mention that the darker part of his mind decided he could get used to the sight of his angel in chains. He said he wished he’d taken the opportunity to tease his angel a bit more, that he should have flirted a bit. Had the situation not been so serious, he probably would have. He ended it by saying his angel looked nice in red and that the crêpes were worth it.

The angel began to fan himself as his eyes drifted around the room. He couldn’t believe anyone would think such carnal thoughts about him. It was absolutely lewd and he didn’t know how to handle it. For some reason, he still thought it best to read on.

He went all the way to the mid-1800s in St. James Park, where Crowley had asked him for holy water in case their arraignment was ever found out. He wrote about how stupid he felt, how he didn’t mean to upset Aziraphale, but that he was flattered his angel seemed to care about him so much. He mentioned that it felt almost like a breakup and that it hurt even more than the man from Mesopotamia, which he didn’t even know was possible. According to Crowley, he was introduced to a new kind of pain that day, because over the centuries since their agreement began, he’d let himself care more and more for Aziraphale. He said that telling his angel he didn’t need him was his biggest regret and the biggest lie he’s ever told. He said he’d do anything to take it back, anything to see Aziraphale again, anything to have lunch with him. He concluded that he would never forgive himself and that he was going to sleep.

That day had also hurt Aziraphale almost as much as it hurt Crowley, but even that scared him. Crowley was intimately attached to that man from Mesopotamia, so for that heartbreak to pale in comparison to the way Crowley and Aziraphale felt was frightening.

Aziraphale took a moment to think to himself. He found himself questioning how much he really cared for Crowley. He cared so much that he would die for the demon, he knew this without doubt. He wanted to call them best friends and leave it at that, but he was unsure that he could. After seeing how Crowley felt, and understanding how he feels, he began to sincerely wonder about how close they had become. In the years leading up to the birth of the antichrist, and the years proceeding the failed apocalypse, he began to realize they had grown extremely close. They could spent hours talking, went out for lunch regularly, wasted days at each other’s homes, and spoke of all the things they would do in the eternity that was to come.

Of course he loved Crowley, but certainly it was akin to brotherly love or the love between two close friends. In his distress, he decided that was all it was, and continued reading.

They were only friends. Close, lifelong friends. Simple as that.

Crowley awoke from his nap in the middle of the Second World War. He was out for roughly a century and the first thing he wrote about was that he had to keep Aziraphale in England. He couldn’t have a repeat of the French Revolution.

He sought out the Nazi spies and tipped them off about Aziraphale’s collection of prophetic books, after a brief torture scene with a Nazi that lead him to learn of Hitler’s desire for them.

He’d done it all on purpose to keep Aziraphale out of the mainland for the war.

As it ended, he realized he now had to get Aziraphale out of the mess he’d gotten him in. There was a brief description of the pain Crowley felt on consecrated grounds, a few quick sentences on the miraculous way they’d saved themselves, and then, another paragraph on the way Aziraphale smiled at him after he saved the books.

Aziraphale remembered it all as if it were yesterday. He remembered the way he had smiled and looked at Crowley. He remembered it because he had never made that expression before in all his life. Sure, Crowley had saved his life before, but saving the books was something else. The books, in the grande scheme of things, didn’t matter in the slightest. Crowley didn’t have to save the books. But he did. He took the time, energy, and magic to save the books just to keep Aziraphale pleased. There was no purpose other than Aziraphale’s happiness. It still bewildered him a bit, but he was thankful nonetheless.

The more he thought about the moment, the more he became aware of his emotions. There was a light feeling in his stomach, as if he might float away, a smile on his face, and his heart seemed to be beating faster than normal. The more he thought of all the time they spent together, the more he realized how deeply he cared for Crowley. Perhaps there was something even deeper than brotherhood or friendship, a deeper love and a deeper bond that humans had no concept of, as they can’t spent thousands of years getting to know someone. A love that hadn’t been discovered yet. Yes, that’s what it was, a new sort of friendly love.

The next twenty years were encompassed on a few pages until that faithful day in Soho, London, back in the sixties. The day Aziraphale gave Crowley the holy water. He wrote about his shock that Aziraphale would steal holy water from heaven for him. He went into a whole speech which expressed his confusion and hope. He couldn’t understand why Aziraphale would do something like that for him. It made him wonder how much he really meant to his angel, and it made him wonder how much his angel meant to him.

He felt a whirlwind of emotions as he witnessed Crowley try to logic his way through what happened, his only conclusion being that Aziraphale must care about him a great deal. He came to the conclusion that at the very least, they’re best friends. But he expressed some doubt, saying that he fears he may care for his angel as something more than only friends. Aziraphale pretended he didn’t read that part, unable to cope with it’s implications.

The seventies rolled around and the angel skimmed all the poetic that Crowley waxed about Queen.

Then came the birth of the antichrist. He wrote about the delivery of the child, his disdain for the end of the world, but his hope that he and Aziraphale could deter it.

Aziraphale expected the next eleven years to be all about Warlock and his growth, but it wasn’t. It was mostly about him. The things he had said and done, jokes he’d made, his offensive magic act, the way he smiled, the way he laughed, even his _‘posh’_ mannerisms. He rolled his eyes at that, but found Crowley’s fixation on him to be strangely flattering.

His heart dropped when he read what Crowley had written the day before Warlock’s eleventh birthday.

_’If we can’t kill the boy or the dog before it’s named, then I’ll tell Aziraphale that I love him. He may never wish to see me again after that, but with the way things would be headed, it would be foolish of me not to take the risk. I don’t know what kind of love I feel. It’s more than brotherly or friendly. It’s something I’ve never felt before and couldn’t begin to describe. As stupid as I am, I’ve let myself love him. I have to tell him. Somehow.’_

He felt tears come to his eyes and he didn’t know why. Why didn’t Crowley tell him then, why not now, when did they both begin to feel this love, what was it, why did everything have to be so complicated? He had a million questions and emotions reeling through him. It was far too overwhelming. He had his fourth cup of tea for the night as he tried to calm himself down.

He noticed the sun was rising and realized he was almost finished with the journal.

He opened the book and the next entry was made just a few days before the apocalypse. It was about the day he and Crowley went to find the birth records of the babies born eleven years ago. Rather than expressing frustration at the lack of records or anger at the way things were going, he only wrote about when he had Aziraphale pressed to the wall.

He spoke about how close they were, how Aziraphale’s barber was a genius for recommending the new cologne, how his hair looked so soft, how lovely his eyes were, how they were so wide and surprised, how he wished he could have tempted a bit of lust into them, and how Aziraphale would have looked better with his hands by his head.

Crowley is a demon, a temptations demon, and lust is by far one of the easiest temptations. Aziraphale wasn’t surprised in the slightest by the lewd contents of the journal, only that so much of it was directed at him. He couldn’t believe someone would ever think so lecherously of an angel.

He shifted in his seat and continued to read.

Next was the day Aziraphale said that they didn’t have a side anymore. Again, Crowley described an even deeper heartache, somehow worse than the one before it. He wrote about how he wanted to run away with Aziraphale, somewhere they could be alone and miracle up their own little world where no one would ever find them. Somewhere they could just be together. Then came the agonizing realization that all he wanted was to be with Aziraphale. All he wanted was for them to be together. He didn’t know where, or when, or why, but somewhere along the way, Aziraphale had silently become the most important thing in his life. Next to Aziraphale, nothing else mattered anymore. He only wanted to escape it all and be with Aziraphale. Aziraphale was the closest thing to heaven he would ever have again, he then went on to correct himself, saying no creation of the almighty would ever be as sweet and good as Aziraphale. He praised the man as the greatest thing ever created. He spoke of how he wanted to indulge in one last sin, selfishness, he wanted to be selfish, he wanted Aziraphale all to himself, just them and the stars. He wanted to run away and be together, he wanted the thrill of knowing how alone and unknown they would be, the rush of isolation, and the excitement of togetherness. He went on about how he would give Aziraphale anything he wanted. He would miracle one of every book on earth to the planet they chose, he would miracle up the most amazing restaurants, even entire populations if his angel wanted. He would give the planet an atmosphere and miracle it into a copy of earth if that’s what it took to make Aziraphale leave with him. He would spend the rest of eternity in the background of whatever indulgent world his angel would have him create, anything to know his angel was safe and happy. He wrote about how stupid he felt for crying, but for the first time since he fell, he was. He wrote that he was absolutely certain, without a doubt, that he was profoundly in love with Aziraphale. He cursed the almighty for such a trick, cursing her for the cruel punishment of unrequited love, declaring it worse than anything hell had to offer. Then, Crowley went into a spiral of fear, hoping that she may grant him the mercy of sparing Aziraphale’s life in the war that was to come. No matter what happened to him, he couldn’t let Aziraphale die.

The handwriting cut off, it had grown shaky and distressed. At the end there were a few small words.

_’I’ve seen this happen to humans many times, but it’s never happened to me until today. I’ve had a panic attack. I didn’t know I could experience such emotions. I’m afraid.’_

Aziraphale felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he set the book down once more.

Crowley loves him, he really loves him.

Aziraphale then came to the harrowing realization that he’s in love with Crowley.

He now knew without a doubt that if Crowley asked him again to run away together, he’d go anywhere in the universe.

Nothing was written about the apocalypse or their failed executions. The next and final page was a short paragraph about their dinner at The Ritz.

He wrote about how happy Aziraphale was, about the loving way he smiled at him, the smile he hadn’t seen since World War Two, and came to the conclusion that he would keep his love a secret as long as it meant he’d get to see that smile again.

Aziraphale was heartbroken, angry, and overjoyed all at once.

Although he had many emotions that he needed to work through, he knew one thing for certain, he would tell Crowley how he felt at his next chance.

It was then that he realized he suddenly wasn’t alone.

“Hey, angel. I think I left someth-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Good Omens fanfic, the next chapter will be out in a few days!


	2. Kiss Me

“Hey, angel. I think I left someth-”

Crowley was cut off by Aziraphale yelping in surprise and throwing the journal at him as if it were a weapon. The voice surprised him, but upon recognizing it, he turned away so Crowley wouldn’t see that he was crying.

At first, the demon wanted to laugh at the angel’s feeble attempt at protecting himself. But when he saw what laid on the floor before him, his expression went blank. “Is thissss?” He couldn’t finish the question as his voice broke into a hiss. He felt an anxiety and anger bubbling in him. “Haven’t you heard of privacccy?! How much have you read?”

Aziraphale’s voice came out broken and small. “All of it.” He finally met Crowley’s eye to reveal his tears.

Crowley’s throat went dry and he was filled with a sudden concern. “Angel, what’s wrong?” He could think of a million things in that journal that would upset an angel, but he already knew, it was the love confessions.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He asked, his voice trembling along with his lower lip. “If I had known how you felt I-” he cut himself off by covering his mouth to suppress a cry that tried to escape, “I fear I might have run away with you all those months ago.” He began to fan himself. “I’m not upset.” He quickly clarified, realizing Crowley was worried, “I’m happy.”

“You’re ..... happy?” He asked the question slowly and uncertainly. The angel definitely didn’t look happy.

Aziraphale nodded. “I’m happy because I love you too. Not in a brotherly way or, a friendly way, like I first thought. What I feel, I haven’t seen put to words until I read this.”

“Y-You can’t. You can’t love me, I’m a demon.” He was overjoyed, but still riddled with concern for Aziraphale. He was terrified he’d be the reason for his friend to fall.

“If I was going to fall I would have fell when I went directly against Heaven, maybe even when I said the F word, or perhaps when I swapped bodies with you to avoid execution! The almighty had plenty of reason and opportunities to cast me out, but she didn’t and I haven’t a clue why. Now I don’t see why love should be a reason to cast me out, but if it is, then it’s worth it Crowley. You’re worth anything.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped. “You can’t possibly mean that.” He had no idea why Aziraphale was so comfortable with he idea of falling, but by the same token, he understood. He understood completely. He knew he’d do more than fall for Aziraphale, he would die for the angel before him.

“I love you, Crowley. Nothing else matters.”

Crowley couldn’t believe that Aziraphale really loved him in return. He blinked a few times in shock, unable to find any semblance of language among the broken syllables that hung in his throat. He decided to go with the words he’s practiced saying for years, “I love you, Aziraphale.”

“I love you too, Crowley. I-“ He cut himself off with a soft laugh as he stood up. “Would you like to have dinner tonight, uhm, as a date?”

Crowley’s face broke into a grin. “Of course, angel.”

Aziraphale seemed to struggle with a thought before finally speaking. “Crowley, I. I know you aren’t a fan of physical affection, but, could I hug you?”

The demon rolled his eyes from behind his sunglasses and stepped forward, wrapping the angel in a hug. “Who said I wasn’t a fan of physical affection? I love touch, you just read all about it.” He couldn’t help teasing a bit.

The angel swatted at his arm. “Don’t say that! I know far too much about your sensual exploits, and may I just say, you are absolutely terrible.” He meant to lightly scold the demon. But instead, Crowley only chuckled.

“Ah,” He drew the word out and used a hand to lift up Aziraphale’s chin, “so you’ve also read all those thoughts I’ve had about you? Wondering about what’s beneath that undershirt, for starts.”

The angel felt his face flush. In his long life, it has now happened for the fifth time. “Wh-I.” He stammered a bit and looked away. “You’re awful.”

Crowley grinned. “Oh, angel. I can get so much worse.” He took in the sight of the angel with a flushed face. In all his millennia, he’s never once seen the angel blush.

Aziraphale squirmed out of his arms. He’s had people flirt with him before and it never affected him, but somehow, Crowley was different. “I cannot believe you would think such things about me.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and motioned to himself. “Temptations demon. I am temptation. Lust, by far, is the easiest temptation. Therefore, I have a bit of a fixation.”

“Still, for thousands of years I was your friend. You can’t possibly tell me that people think these things about friends.”

“Most people, even if they don’t mean to, will occasionally have a thought about a friend. But you, you’re my _best_ friend, and you’re incredibly attractive. Really, it isn’t even my fault. _You_ tempted _me_.”

Aziraphale looked a mix of confused and alarmed that he would have such an effect on a person. “Oh, I do apologize. It was never my intention.”

Crowley blinked a few times. “So, you’re going to completely disregard the fact that I called you incredibly attractive?”

“Right, thank you.”

“You really are a bit oblivious. Suppose I should take it up a notch flirting with you, then.”

Aziraphale took a coy step back and tried to stay composed under this foreign topic of discussion. “Well. That, uh. That can’t possibly be necessary! I can assure you, I can handle a perfectly base level of, uhm, flirting.”

Crowley smirked down at the angel. “Getting a bit flustered, are you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This is the day I’ve been dreaming of for decades! Finally! Did you know you blushed earlier? I’ve never seen you do that before. Invoking lust and pride in me, angel. You’ve got a bit of a bad streak going on.”

“Oh, heaven help me!” He looked away. “Am I really ..... tempting you? Or are you just saying these things to tease me?”

“Both. You’re tempting me, and I like flirting with you.” He gave a shrug, “Might as well tempt you back.” He finished with a wink.

The angel scoffed. “I am no mortal and I have no bestial desires. I cannot be tempted.” He said it as though it were obvious.

A grin spread on Crowley’s face. “Is that a challenge?”

“Last I recall, you can hardly complete a temptation without assistance.” Though they are not prideful, angels do have a bit of a holier-than-thou complex. Aziraphale is no exception.

Crowley let out a laugh. “Right, noble angel. Want to take this upstairs and test that theory.”

“Heaven?!”

“No, the flat upstairs.”

“Oh. Right.” He’d forgotten all about it.

Turning the upstairs into a flat was Crowley’s idea. His excuse was that Aziraphale should have a little home in order to keep up appearances. Really, he wanted to have a bed around, just in case.

Aziraphale began to walk towards the staircase, but with the snap of Crowley’s fingers, they were both in the untouched bedroom upstairs. The angel gasped and stumbled a bit from the sudden change, landing face-first in Crowley’s chest. He looked up, embarrassed. “Apologies.”

“Don’t worry about it, I like having you close.” He could finally say all the things he’s been thinking for years.

Aziraphale smiled. “Right. I suppose you’re to use your demonic powers to try and tempt me?”

Crowley couldn’t help but to laugh. “Angel, I haven’t have to use my powers to tempt someone to lust in centuries. So I won’t use any miracles or magic on you either, just my body.”

Now Aziraphale had the gall to chuckle. “Oh, certainly.” He said it as though he didn’t believe it was possible.

“Are you doubting me, angel?” He teased, pulling the angel’s body against his.

“It isn’t that I doubt you, it’s that I’m an angel. You can’t tempt me. It’s fact.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Can I kiss you, angel?”

Aziraphale blushed, a bit surprised by the question. He couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered a bit. “I-I suppose.”

The demon leaned down and pressed a small kiss against the angel’s lips.

When Aziraphale felt Crowley pull away, he let his eyes open and he quickly mumbled, “You could do it again, if you want.” He couldn’t stop a small smile from spreading across his face at the feeling of Crowley’s lips pressing against his own for a second time. The kiss gave him a light feeling in his stomach, as if he might float away.

Crowley’s hands both rested on the angel’s back. He let his fingers spread to gently stroke and rub, further relaxing the angel in his arms. He started by giving Aziraphale a collection of slow and tender kisses. He felt the curve of the smiling angel’s lips against his. He felt the angel relaxing into the kiss before he was hit with a realization and he quickly pulled away. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” He quickly asked.

Aziraphale’s cheeks were still dusted with a light pink as he shook his head. “Not like this. Is that a problem?” Many societies and cultures throughout history have used kissing to express friendship, but the angel had never kissed anyone like this.

“So I’m your first kiss?”

The angel slowly nodded as Crowley technically wasn’t wrong. He was the angel’s first passionate kiss.

Crowley grinned. “So, I get to teach you how to kiss then.”

Aziraphale tilted his head. “I believe I was learning very much while you were kissing me. You really should try that again.” He wasn’t entirely patient.

The demon grinned at the way the angel tried to coerce him into kissing. It worked, and he kissed his angel once more.

He felt the lips against his growing soft and compliant. A few kisses later and the sweet lips were finally kissing him back, slowly and gently. The demon had to force back a growl at how pure and virginal the other was. He let his lips gently part and on the next kiss, he took in Aziraphale’s bottom lip and gave it a soft nip.

Aziraphale let out a surprised squeak and pulled back. “That hurt.”

Crowley gave a shy smile. “Sorry angel, I lost myself.” It was then that Crowley became aware of how different he and Aziraphale really were. Crowley had done things in bed that most humans could never imagine, and has easily slept with more people than any other creature. But Aziraphale hadn’t even kissed anyone like this. The angel in his arms, though hardheaded and rebellious in his own right, was as innocent as every angel should be. He was entirely untouched, unexplored, and that drove Crowley wild. No matter what happened tonight, he wasn’t going to take Aziraphale’s virginity, not yet, but he would gladly introduce him to the pleasures of the flesh.

“Do it to me,” Crowley offered, “I like it.”

“You’re a masochist?” The angel was vaguely aware that the word could be applied in a sexual sense.

“Somewhat.”

That was good enough for Aziraphale, who took Crowley’s bottom lip between his own and gave it a soft nip.

The demon let out a soft groan and the angel gasped as he pulled away yet again. “Th-That noise!” His eyes were wide, He was absolutely scandalized. But something about the groan sent a shiver down his spine and an unfamiliar warmth rested between his legs.

Crowley chuckled at how sweet the angel was. “You’ll be hearing it a lot, angel.” He was an expert at lust. He could feel the way Aziraphale enjoyed hearing his groan. “Make me do it again?” He tempted.

The angel stepped forward once more and kissed his demon. He picked up on how Crowley did it and let his soft lips cover the slightly puckered ones before him. He hardly pulled a centimeter away before giving in to more and more kisses. The pucker in Crowley’s lips relaxed and Aziraphale felt his torso lighting up with an unfamiliar joy from kissing the man he loves. He was still a bit unsure. He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, so one rested at Crowley’s waist and the other stayed by his side.

Crowley, on the other hand, was quick to give in to the passion. One arm stayed around Aziraphale, keeping him close, while his other hand roamed up and cupped the angel’s soft cheek. He felt the angel slowly tilt his head, changing the angle so he could get Crowley’s bottom lip between his own. He eventually gave the demon a soft nip and Crowley nearly whimpered at the feeling.

Soon, Aziraphale was seamlessly mixing kisses and nips until he pulled away from the kiss with the demon’s lip still between his teeth. He had the gall to make eye contact while slowly pulling away, letting the captured flesh slowly fall from his teeth and land back where it belonged. His eyes flickered down to see Crowley’s pointed tongue slip out of his mouth and lick away the saliva Aziraphale had left behind. He also noticed how red his lips had become from use. It was quite beautiful. Something about the sight only drew him in even further.

“You- uh. Th-That. Why, why would you lick that?” The angel struggled to get through his own question.

Those tempting lips stretched into a smirk. “Because it came from you. I want to taste everything you have.” His voice was lower than normal, thickened with a lust that Aziraphale had never heard from Crowley, but always knew he was capable of.

Crowley looked into those baby blue eyes. They were absolutely stunning to him. They reminded him of some Arctic Ocean, a deep blue outer-ring that became overwhelmed by ice and frost, and just around his pupil, a small fleck of gold. Those gentle angel eyes that momentarily made him forget where he was. “I could stare into your eyes for eternity.” His voice was softened by how Aziraphale’s eyes absolutely enraptured him.

They were both aware of the way Crowley’s lips parted from the stun of staring into those gorgeous eyes, but only Crowley saw the way Aziraphale’s pupils twitched and dilated. Lust. He didn’t want to point it out. If he did, the angel might stop, but he didn’t want to stop, he wanted this to last forever. So kept his observation to himself. “Angel, I need you to be honest with me, no matter how embarrassing it might be.” He understood the importance of setting out his expectations before they began. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, but you might hesitate or embellish the truth. If I ever do anything that you don’t like or don’t want, tell me. I’ll stop or we could do something else, it doesn’t matter to me, but know that it will never upset me. Please. I need you to promise me this.”

Aziraphale blinked a few times, his eyes finally leaving Crowley’s mouth and moving to meet the slitted pupils before him. “Of course, my dear. I promise.” It warmed his heart to know how much Crowley cared.

“I also need you to tell me if there’s something you want me to do.” His voice changed from caring to something a bit heavier. Not teasing, though there was a hint of it in his tone. It was simply, desirous. “If you want more, want me to touch something in particular, want me to do something specific, if there’s anything you want, I need you to tell me. I won’t judge your desires, and I’ll happily indulge you.”

“Oh. Well, would you mind indulging me in another kiss?”

Crowley didn’t quite know how the angel managed to make coyness sexy, but he did. “Of course.” He leaned in and kissed the angel once more, still cupping his cheek.

After pulling away from the kiss, Aziraphale grew a small smile and asked, “Another?” They kissed and he requested yet another, Crowley had to fight back a chuckle at how adorable the man before him was. Crowley had never had this much fun just by kissing someone. Before, it was always about what came after the kissing. But now, he could bask in the warmth of Aziraphale’s lips for hours.

They kissed, smiled, and the angel was much quicker to start nipping at Crowley’s lower lip. Thanks to PG romance novels, he was even knowledgeable enough to experimentally let his tongue slip out and lick across Crowley’s lip before nipping it again.

The demon couldn’t help but to feel proud at how quickly Aziraphale was catching on. He used the arm around the angel to pull him even closer, so that their chests pressed together. It was warmer like that. With Aziraphale pressed against him, in his arms, kissing and nipping at his lips, it was nearly impossible for the man to stay composed. Though he almost always made an effort, he couldn’t always control how the thing in his pants reacted to the world around him. He felt the occasional and minute twitch of something daring to rise.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, has never made an effort in his life, and remained sexless, as all angels should. But the excitement that he felt sat strangely low in his torso. He chalked it up to side effects of being in love. However, deep in the core of his being, lurked an unfamiliar desire for more. He didn’t exactly know what it was he wanted more of, he just wanted more. He pulled away from the kiss and was about to speak, until he saw Crowley licking at his own lips, tasting Aziraphale. The angel flushed and frowned. “Must you continue to do that?”

“Yes, I must. Unless you’d like me to taste something else?” He offered.

His cheeks and nose went red, and though it wasn’t visible, so did the tops of his shoulders.

Crowley’s eyes nearly rolled back as he felt a wave of lust radiate from the angel, even though Aziraphale only expressed his shock. “I can feel how much you enjoy the filthy things I say.” He pointed out.

The desire for more made itself more physical. Rather than resting in the core of his being, Aziraphale could suddenly feel it sitting just as suspiciously low as the excitement he’s come to know. “I find that humorous as I’d rather hear no more filth from you.” He may be an angel, but he’s stubborn and feisty in his own right. “Now then, if you’re finished with that nonsense, I do believe I promised to inform you of my feelings.” His mouth moved but nothing came out. He looked away as he realized he didn’t know what to say. He took in a slow breath and tried again, looking Crowley in his eyes. “I don’t quite know what it is that I want, but, I want more.” He hoped that would be enough for the demon to catch on.

Crowley smirked and nodded, “I understand. Would you be alright if we undressed a bit. No need to be nude, but a few layers wouldn’t hurt.”

Aziraphale seemed to think it over a moment before agreeing. He knew that this was a bad idea, he knew he shouldn’t agree, but all those warm kisses had melted his resolve.


	3. Wily Harlot

Crowley let his jacket slip off and he undid his vest with one hand. He kissed Aziraphale as he pulled the other’s jacket off. He spread the kisses around his angel’s face: all over his cheeks, forehead, and the tip of his nose, just to hear his angel’s silvery giggle. He unbuttoned Aziraphale’s vest in the process and let it drop to the floor, while his other hand pulled off his own scarf, adding it to the growing pile of clothes between them.

When Crowley pulled away to look at Aziraphale, he found himself grinning. Everything about the angel was so soft and sweet, as if there was a heavenly filter that he constantly wore. Under that blue button-up there was nothing but soft flesh. He was absolutely perfect, but Crowley was especially charmed by the way the other’s stomach poked just over the top of his breeches. It was so lovely. It made the other seem warm and soft, like a teddy bear.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, couldn’t believe his eyes. He hadn’t paid much attention when they had switched bodies, but now he was consumed by the sight. He was staring at Crowley in only a grey t-shirt and black jeans. Slightly-tanned and somewhat muscular arms, his lips worn into a pale red, the most gentle pink flush on his cheeks, the way his red hair shone like the warmest part of a fire, his lithe and unnaturally graceful figure, he was even aware of how Crowley’s jeans showed off his thighs in an absolutely shameless fashion. He was a thing of divine beauty, so carefully designed to entice sin.

It was in that moment that Aziraphale understood why handsome men were called devils.

“You said you want more, angel. Is that more kissing, or something else?”

Aziraphale looked down at the floor and fidgeted a bit, trying to figure out what he wanted. “I really enjoy kissing you, but, I think I would like to do something further.” He looked back up at Crowley with a kittenish smile as he concluded his statement, proud that he’d figured it out on his own.

Crowley never showed how charmed he was by his lovers. Attachments never went well for him, considering his partners were always human and he was mostly immortal, but the angel before him was so incredibly different. He wasn’t overcome by lust or caught up in the moment; he was grounded in something so sweet and steady. He could stay like that forever, going as slow as his angel needed. It also made him unafraid to confess every little feeling that angelic smile gave him.

“Don’t smile at me like that, angel, I’m a stray dog; show me warmth and you’ll never rid of me.” He couldn’t figure out how or why, but something about the angel was so light, it drew him in. “You look like home.” A soft shudder ran through him and he felt himself tear up with a heavy emotion as the last of his defenses came crumbling down. He was broken.

Aziraphale might not have been the best angel, but he had one advantage over the rest: he understood emotions. He understood them so fully and completely. He gave Crowley a gentle smile and reached up, cupping his cheek. “Then stay. Be mine forever.”

And like a stray, Crowley stumbled into the open arms of a kind soul. Too kind a soul. One that was willing to give and has always given for six thousand years without complaint. Given friendship, company, partnership, he gave Crowley everything he never found for himself because he was unwilling to make mortal friends. And like a stray, Crowley took everything he could get out of his angel.

He once wanted to be selfish. He wanted to run away, abandon this world and have his angel all to himself. Now, he needed to give. He was going to give his angel everything.

He wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist and pulled him close. “Do you mind if I kiss elsewhere? Like, your neck?”

Aziraphale knew that neck kisses were meant to feel pleasurable, but Crowley’s eyes made him forget. Those eyes that were heavy with a deep love and determination that he had never before witnessed. “Go ahead, my dear.”

Crowley leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his angel’s neck.

Those blue eyes widened in shock and he wanted to squirm at only one kiss. Still, he’d gotten himself into this situation, so he intended on going through with it.

Crowley could feel the way Aziraphale’s back suddenly and sharply arched at the pleasure. He smirked and placed a few more kisses across the side of the angel’s neck. He wanted his angel to know pleasure in it’s sweetest and more giving form. He wanted to satisfy every ounce of lust that he’s tempted into the man before him. His need to please was relieved when he felt the angel tense up and squirm, hearing a faint and dulcet moan slip out.

Aziraphale shocked himself at the noise. He flushed and his hands drifted to hold on to Crowley’s shoulders, his torso occasionally squirming at the pleasure. He let his eyes close and was embarrassed to feel his own breath picking up. He didn’t even need to breathe, but he was, overcome by the need to take in more and more air. In a matter of moments he was left softly panting and letting out shy moans at the foreign pleasure.

Typically, Crowley didn’t find much amusement in the sounds or reactions of his lovers, but it was all different with Aziraphale. It was the most beautiful he’s ever experienced. He relished in every sound. Using his lips to play his lover like an instrument, drawing out the most beautiful music he’s heard in centuries. His actions weren’t just loving, but tactical. He drew his extensive knowledge of the human body and pulled out every trick he had. Every sensitive spot was given attention, places with more nerve endings were teased, he milked every inch of skin for it’s worth, he used his tongue to tease the flesh, and sucked at the places he knew would drive any mortal wild. He was desperate to please.

Aziraphale couldn’t stop the stream of little noises that fell from his lips. He could resist, he could push Crowley away, he could stop it all, but he didn’t want to. He wanted more. Haplessly squirming and making noise for his lover, all he could do was crave. In all his years, Aziraphale has never hungered. He's craved, but he has never known hunger like those lips that feasted on him, like his need to be satisfied.

Crowley soon felt something familiar. It felt so familiar that he didn’t even question it until a moment later. He pulled away in surprise and gave his angel a sly grin. “Angel, are you making an effort for me?”

Aziraphale seemed confused until he looked down and saw a bulge in his trousers. He seemed far more shocked than the demon, looking up with a mortified expression. “But I-I wasn’t! I swear I’m not trying! I didn’t mean for this to happen! Oh, my dear boy, please forgive me!”

The demon couldn’t stop himself from letting out a laugh. “You seriously didn’t try? This was an accident?”

The angel quickly nodded, “Yes! There was nothing there a moment ago, and I used no magic to make this happen!” He was very adamant that it wasn’t his fault.

Crowley grinned. “Have I seduced you that well?” He was filled with brand new ideas on how to please his angel.

Aziraphale crossed his arms and tried to downplay it. “I blame physical pleasure. I was fine until then.”

“Perhaps it weakened your system. Made you susceptible to your magic doing as it wants.” He wasn’t serious about his theory until he heard himself say it out loud, and realized that it wasn’t half-bad.

The angel found himself thinking it over. “Possibly.” He blinked a few times, snapping out off his thoughts, “But nevertheless, now I’m stuck with this!” He didn’t want to use a miracle to get rid of his own boner since he wasn’t sure if upstairs still monitored his use of miracles.

Crowley grinned. “Not quite.” He suggested, “I’m here to help.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up. “You know of a magic that’ll make it go away?”

Crowley shook his head with a small smile at his angel’s naïveté. “No. I was going to suggest that I ravish you until,” He paused, wanting to word it in a way that wasn’t too explicit, but that Aziraphale would understand. He decided to go with a French euphemism, “until you experience small death.”

The angel froze and his face lit up red. “O-Oh! Well, isn’t there another way?”

“Trust me, angel, efforts are stubborn. They don’t go away on their own like natural ones.”

The angel bit his lip and seemed to mull it over. He then coyly confessed, “I’ve never done anything like that before.” He shifted a bit. “I-Is it normal for it to begin throbbing?”

“Means it’s getting worse. It’ll only get more and more uncomfortable.” He informed as he took another glance at the first effort the other has ever experienced. “But I know that because this is your first time, it won’t last long at all.” He couldn’t help but to feel like he was taking advantage of Aziraphale. For some reason, he felt guilty. “Angel, I’m really sorry about this. If you want, I could try to miracle it away. I’ve never used magic on another’s effort before. In fact, I don’t even know if they can be miracled away, but I can try.”

Aziraphale gave a small smile. “Don’t apologize, my dear. Really, I brought this upon myself. I shouldn’t have been messing around with a temptations demon.” He joked lightly, trying to help the other feel better. “If it’s any consolation, I-I do quite like the idea of, uhm, the non-magic solution.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and a smirk took over his face. He couldn’t believe he just heard Aziraphale say that. “Pardon?”

“You heard me, Crowley. I won’t say it again.”

The demon let out a chuckle. “Right, I just can’t quite believe you really said that.”

The angel was filled with a sudden confidence, a confidence that stemmed entirely from the discomfort between his legs. “Come now If magic isn’t going to work you might as well get a w-”

“If you tell me to get a wiggle on, I’ll leave.”

Aziraphale softly laughed, “Oh fine. Since magic won’t work, you might as well ravish me until small death, as you so eloquently put it.”

Somehow, Crowley’s lips parted in shock, as if he hadn’t really expected the other to say it. “Aziraphale, I just. I need you to give me permission, just once more, because I’m not entirely sure I heard you correctly.”

“Crowley, if you don’t make this effort go away, I may die from discomfort. Ravish me, please!” He was nearly at his wit’s end.

The “please” nearly made Crowley choke on his own inhale. He stood there a few moments before quickly snapping into action. He scooped up the angel in front of him, making the other gasp as he was suddenly in the arms of a demon. He laid Aziraphale down on the untouched bed that Crowley could remember buying with the angel, years ago. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“How long?” He couldn’t help but to question it.

“Little over four thousand years. When I first started having gratuitous amounts of sex, you were one of the first I thought of playing with. I’ve always wondered how you would act and sound.” He spoke as he undid Aziraphale’s belt.

“Is it everything you’ve ever hoped?” The question was really more of a joke since they hadn’t done much yet.

“Everything and more, angel.” He moved his hands to Aziraphale’s waist, looking down at his angel with eyes filled with wonder. “Can I unbutton your shirt?” He was once told that he went too fast for his angel, he’d never make that mistake again.

The angel smiled and nodded. “Of course, my dear boy.”

Trust radiated off of the ethereal being before him. He unbuttoned the pale blue shirt to reveal skin he’d never seen before. Pale and beauteous. He knelt on the bed and spread open the shirt to place his hands on the soft display before him. He was nestled between the angel’s legs, staring at the new skin. He pulled his sunglasses off and set them aside, wanting nothing to alter his view. He leaned down and kissed at the angel’s neck, feeling him squirm and arch his back. He closed his eyes and let his lips worship the flesh before him. He let his mouth wander and slowly roam downward as his hands caressed the angel.

The sweetest shiver ran up his spine as wet open-mouth kisses went down his body. His lips parted in bliss as the warm mouth set his skin ablaze, softly sucking and licking at different places, determined to taste every inch of him. He felt the muscles in his torso tremble under his flesh, succumbing to the overwhelming subtly of the mouth that enthralled his body. His fingers were no more merciful, flooding his senses with the softest touches that make him want to squirm. Nothing was overbearing, nothing was enough, and that's what made it all too much. The poor angel didn’t know how to cope with the new feelings that took over. Those lips and fingertips moved in a steady parade down his body, and every inch of him was slowly becoming acquainted with the sweet pleasure that came from the demon’s attentions. But he was still plagued with the need for more.

“My dear, I-you, you’re making it worse.” He was aching for touch between his legs.

Crowley smirked up at Aziraphale, still inching his way down. “I’ll get there when I get there.”

The angel tried to frown, but a flutter of kisses along his hipbone made him gasp. “Oh! You can make love to me later, I need to see the end of this!”

The demon bit his lip and raised an eyebrow. “Quite demanding, aren’t you?” He teased as he unbuttoned the angel’s trousers. “When I get started, you’ll want to move. You’ll try to squirm, grab my hair, buck your hips, you might even try to wiggle away, but know that as long as you don’t tell me to stop, I’ll continue no matter what you do. So don’t hold back. I can take it.”

The sound of his zipper made the angel blush. “O-Okay.” He felt his pants being tugged down and he could feel the cool air nipping through his underwear. He took a deep breath. “Do be gentle.” He felt meek for giving such a request, but by the same token, he was nervous.

Crowley gave a genuine smile. “Anything, for you.” He set his hands on the waistband of his lovers last garment. “I love you, Aziraphale.” He rarely ever said the angel’s name, but there was a strange feeling deep inside of him: something good, something serious, but altogether pure and innocent. The feeling floated inside of him and flickered like flame. He didn’t know what it was, but the bright pleasantness inside of him moved him to confess his love once more. He was happy. So genuinely happy. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time.

Aziraphale took another deep breath and he was stripped nude. He glanced down and nearly fainted at the sight of himself. Perfectly average sized, a bit thick, absent of foreskin, pale with a few light blue veins that were nearly purple, and a weeping tip that was the soft pink of a rose.

Crowley was dumbstruck a moment, never before seeing something so flawless and pretty. He was momentarily impressed. He used his hands to gently push the angel’s thighs apart, which made the man below him turn as pink as his tip. It was all so perfectly made, every inch of him, so soft and lovely. He was laying between the thighs of a work of art. The angel was beyond him, something perfect and divine. Crowley was entirely overwhelmed by the sight of the lucent being laid out before him in all his flushed glory.

The demon blinked a few times and snapped out of his trance. “My apologies. You’re just so beautiful, it’s a bit overwhelming.”

Aziraphale’s lips parted in shock. He could tell that Crowley genuinely meant the complement. He was about to respond, but his arousal twitched at the sweet words, making him softly gasp in surprise. “I didn’t know it did that!” The angel tossed an arm over his face, coyly hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

The demon smirked. “Have you any idea how seductive that pose is? I could stare at you all day. Even the way you twitch is enthralling.”

A single bead of precum leaked from his tip and slipped down the underside of his length.

Crowley let his pointed tongue slip out and press against the base of Aziraphale, gently sliding up in one long lick. Before he was even halfway there, the angel let out a choked cry and squirmed his hips away from the overwhelming new feeling. “You taste perfect.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped at the pleasure that ran through his body. “You wily harlot!” He couldn’t believe the man before him was doing and saying such things.

The demon bit his lip and smirked at how easily the angel’s resolve was broken. He was grateful for it really, he enjoyed a responsive partner. “Had I known how delicious you were, I wouldn’t’ve been off tempting so many humans. You satisfy every desire in me.”

The angel let out an involuntary whimper at the promiscuous statement. “Well had I known _this_ was an effective way to thwart your evils from humanity, I may have given in sooner.”

“We should’ve done this decades ago.” Crowley mumbled as he dove back in. But this time, his target was lower. He let the pointed tip of his tongue run across the furred balls. He very much liked that the hair on the angel’s head matched everywhere else.

The angel, who knew not how to hold back, let out a groan and arched his back. His mind was blank and his hips began moving of their own accord, grinding against the tongue that made him feel good. He decided that he loved the sweet friction against such an untouched place. “Yes! I want more of that!” He demanded.

Crowley was very happy to oblige. He pressed his face between the soft thighs before him and let his tongue slither in patterns that the angel was far too preoccupied to interpret. But Crowley wasn’t sure how impressed the angel would be with the fact that he was tracing the words, “I love you”, onto his balls.

The arm that wasn’t thrown across the angel’s face went down to let his fingers card through those red locks, taking a loose fistful. He didn’t plan on pulling the demon’s hair, but he was in desperate need of something to hold on to. He ground his fervid hips onto the tongue that pleasured him, his head tossed back, and his mouth letting out the sweetest whines and whimpers.

The demon gently sucked at the tight skin before him, lavishing the area with a few more licks before he moved up to let his tongue gently lick over the dripping tip of his angel. He watched the angel yelp in response to the new attention.

Aziraphale’s thighs let a soft shiver run through them and he bit his bottom lip, “Oh, Crowley.” He let the words escape him before he realized what he was saying. More soft whimpers and whines left his throat as his tip was licked at. Each lick sent a shock through his muscles, making his thighs shake and his hips shift. He didn’t expect something so simple to feel so intense, but then again, he’s never done this before.

Crowley nearly moaned when the angel said his name. Something about it was all too erotic. He took the tip in his mouth, holding the shaft as he sucked and licked at the head.

Aziraphale gave a cry and his hips lifted off the bed. His grip in Crowley’s hair tightened and he held his hips up, squirming and writhing. “Crowley!” His tone was absolutely desperate. The warm hand and mouth that enraptured him were utterly overwhelming.

Crowley let out a throaty growl which made the angel whine at the light vibration that rushed through his tip. He pushed Aziraphale’s hips back onto the bed and held them there. He pulled away and smirked up at the angel. “I’m going to stay down here until you finish. Remember what I said, don’t hold back.” He winked before taking in the tip and hollowing his cheeks.

Aziraphale gave another soft cry and tossed his head back. He felt lovely from that alone. He wanted to buck his hips, but he also wanted to be mindful of Crowley even though he was told not to hold back. “Perfect!”

Crowley’s lips involuntarily tried to stretch into a smirk. Something about the complement made him feel phenomenal. He was used to incoherence when he slept with humans, but he was much gentler with Aziraphale than he was with them. He’d never gotten many complements during sex, just noises, but he liked the praise.

The angel lost all control of his muscles as small trembles and quivers took him over. He surprised himself and let out a long and throaty groan when Crowley went down even further. His groan cut off and he began panting. He very gently pushed his hips forward, trying to get even deeper inside of his lover, wanting to go all the way in. “I-I want more!” No matter how embarrassing it was, he did promise to tell Crowley his desires.

A sharp gasp filled the room as Aziraphale found himself completely sheathed in Crowley’s mouth. The demon stayed there a moment, not moving or sucking. He wanted to frustrate the angel. Aziraphale was frozen for a moment before he let out a moan and shivers took his muscles once more. He began quickly shifting his hips back and forth, not exactly rocking or humping, just very small and fast bucks. The angel’s voice and body shook as he basked in the warmth of the other. “Oh! You’re wonderful, Crowley!” He’d never been so selfish or greedy before, but he couldn’t stop himself, he had to take what felt good.

The demon blushed from the complement. He decided to distract himself by bobbing his head, finally giving his angel a proper blow.

Aziraphale’s back arched and his head tilted back. He was stretched out on the bed, his grip tight in Crowley’s hair, panting and whining as he slowed his pace to rock his hips in time to Crowley’s movements. A lovely feeling spread through his body, starting at his pelvis. It was light and airy, as if he might float away, but there was a sharp edge to it that made it impossible for Aziraphale to relax. It was just enough to make him shiver and moan.

The throbbing pressure in Crowley’s pants was somehow made worse every time Aziraphale sighed and complemented him. The sweet voice that told him about how good he’s doing, calling him sweet names, making him feel strangely appreciated and prideful. He loved the sight of his angel stretched back on the bed, so open and free. He loved how his angel couldn’t stop his own noises, how he couldn’t control the way his hips moved, couldn’t stop his body from trembling, he emitted an irresistible purity.

“Crowley! I- m-more! I want more!” Aziraphale bucked his hips faster. The sharpness of the pleasure, the thing that prevented him from relaxing, it called him to crave more. No matter what, it felt as if he couldn’t get enough. When his lover relented and began stroking the bottom half of his length, he sped up even more. “Oh, you’re so good to me! So good!”

He knew the complements were meant to be taken as a thank you for giving his angel what he needed, but it was somehow hard not to be effected. He craved more praise. He wanted his innocent angel to moan out all those kind comments in the most debauched tone. He needed to hear how much Aziraphale enjoyed it, he had to know he was doing good.

Aziraphale went from whining and whimpering to groaning and panting. His groans were deep, coming from the very core of him, trying to cope with the delightful pleasure that overcame every inch of him. He rolled his hips into Crowley’s caring hand and mouth. He felt himself still craving something more. He was struck with an idea that he didn’t have the concentration to think about before he opened his mouth and made it known, “Not so gentle, Crowley! I need it!” He was borderline begging.

The request had Crowley momentarily dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe his angel wanted it rougher, but he couldn’t deny him. He tightened his grip and sucked harder, making Aziraphale cry out and hastily buck his hips as the pleasure grew even more intense. He looked up at the glorious sight and listened to all the melodic sounds his lover made, basking in the way he pleased him.

Aziraphale could feel something, something intense and just out of reach. He didn’t know what it was but he yearned for it. He had to chase it.

Crowley’s eyes nearly rolled back when he heard a cry laced in a familiarly desperate tone. It was a desperation he knew very well. The desperation of feeling a sublime end that sat just beyond the borders of their bodies. He removed his hand and sank down lower. He knew Aziraphale wasn’t going to stop moving his hips until he was hit with his orgasm, so he remained there, still, allowing his angel to use his mouth as he pleased.

Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s change in position and he used all his will-power to stop thrusting a moment. He was very aware of what Crowley wanted him to do. He looked down at the demon with trembling hips and quivering thighs. All the muscles in his body were useless from how close he was, his body was frozen on the edge. “Are you certain you don’t want me to hold back?”

Crowley pulled back very slowly, working his tongue in a way that made his angel involuntarily mewl. He pulled off and smirked up at his lover. “I’m sure. I can take it, angel.”

The angel gave a nod and sighed when Crowley let him in once again. He started off slow, rolling his hips. He felt as if he was right where he had left off. His pace lasted only a few seconds before he let out a whine and sped up, craving the end. He sighed out his lover’s name and felt his body relent to the trembles and quivers that took him over. His last bit of control was his shaking hips, rolling and bucking in ways they never have before. It was then that the angel became aware of his own whimpering. He breifly wondered how long he had been making the noise.

Crowley watched the glorious sight before him: his sweet and innocent angel succumbing to the pleasures of the flesh. He had never known decay as beautiful as this, as beautiful as his angel caught in sweet atrophy, defenseless against desire. But somehow he knew that no matter how many times they did this, Aziraphale would always be a beacon of virtue. His angel was incorruptible but not immovable, and what a delightful movement it was to go from virgin to hedonist, it was the movement of his hips, greedy and desirous.

A strong pleasure waited just on the horizon, getting ever closer. Aziraphale had to know it. He let out a soft grunt and moved his hips as quickly as he could. In the back of his mind he knew how unseemly this was, he should be ashamed, but he was indifferent. A groan ripped straight from his throat, filling the air and thundering against the walls. He shivered and laid in wait, his hips begging the feeling to finally wash over him, to finally overcome him, he wanted to be devoured.

And he was.

It was like an ocean of pleasure had finally dragged him in from the shore, and he was drowning in relief. He threw his head back and let out a howl. He writhed on the bed and struggled against the shaking thrill. His hips moved fast and hard, desperate to keep the feeling for as long as possible, trembling as he finally spilled into Crowley’s mouth.

The demon gave a pleased sigh and suckled on his angel's tip to help him ride out his orgasm, swallowing what he was given. He couldn't help the bit of pride he felt when he felt a slight burn in the back of his throat. A bit of grace must have accidentally slipped out in the angel's moment of helplessness. He closed his eyes as he felt Aziraphale's hips slow, satisfied with himself.

The angel's hips dropped onto the bed and his body still trembled. He basked in what was left of the feeling as he was covered up and a body moved to lay beside him. He looked over to see Crowley, who wore a very satisfied smirk.

"Enjoy yourself?" The demon asked.

An indignant and embarrassed huff was the only response he received until a few moments later when Aziraphale seemed to come to a realization, "W-Where- I thought I would've made a mess."

He couldn't stop a laugh from escaping as he clarified, "You did, in my mouth." He gave a wink and watched the other man put on a mortified expression.

"I- Y-You, why would you-?!"

He watched his angel struggle to get out the lewd question before taking pity on him and answering. "Because I want to. In fact, I think I finally understand why you enjoy eating."

Aziraphale's cheeks were scarlet and he pulled the blanket up to hide his face. "Wily harlot!"

"_Your_ wily harlot." He corrected.

Though they said nothing more on the subject, they were both quite pleased with that.


End file.
